


Greetings from the refuge

by jackscrutchie



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied Relationships, JUST TAKE THIS, M/M, Refuge, Sadness, Tumblr Prompt, everyone asks for angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackscrutchie/pseuds/jackscrutchie
Summary: Still stuck in the refuge, Crutchie's condition worsens. He tries so hard to be brave.





	Greetings from the refuge

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone asks me for angst. This was another tumblr prompt -- So have fun!

Three days. Three days since the last time Crutchie had seen Jack. Five days since he’d been dragged off to the refuge and beaten and bruised. Two days since he’d last eaten. Probably six days since he’d been able to keep any food or water down anyway. It’d been four days since he’d gotten a good amount of sleep. One day since he’d quietly wept into his pillow after the other boys were long dreaming of their freedom.

In those quiet sleepless moments, he’d lie in his bed, cramped with two other boys and think of Jack. He’d think of the Jack he saw three days ago - He remembered the look on Jack’s face when he realized he wasn’t able to get up. He looked… Hurt. Crutchie didn’t think he’d ever seen an expression like that on Jack’s face before. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see it again. So he smiled. He flashed the brightest smile he could muster. He smiled through the pain and threatening tears. Crutchie lifted his hand and waved, trying to reassure him that everything was okay… But was it?

He’d think of the charismatic strike leader. He’d think of the Jack that sat on the rooftop, dreaming of escaping. Dreaming of Santa Fe and that better life. He’d think of the Jack he knew when they were both younger. The same as he is now, but still so different somehow. Then he’d think of the Jack that only he knew. The Jack that would gently touch his hand while he was sleeping. The Jack that would sit for hours and listen to him talk about his day. The Jack that would lie in his lap and sketch and often fall asleep. The Jack that would count his freckles and press soft secretive kisses to his cheeks… He’d think of the Jack that was just his.

It was times like this when those thoughts helped the most. He couldn’t sleep. His leg was in pain, his muscles ached, small beads of sweat kept building up and rolling down his face… He was nauseous despite not having anything in his stomach and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. He longed for fresh air and for Jack’s hands through his hair… Crutchie clenched his jaw tight and slowly sat up, hoping to keep consciousness. If he could just get to the window, he could unlatch it and maybe the cool breeze would help.

Slowly, and as quietly as he could, he pulled himself up to stand. His leg stiffened in protest, a sharp pain shot up his back but – One step after the other, Crutchie made his way to the window, trying to avoid the creaky floor boards. Maybe he could see the moon. Maybe Jack would be looking up at the same moon… They could look together, despite being apart. He broke a smile. He wondered what Jack was doing right now… Maybe the strike was over. Maybe he had jumped on a train and finally gotten to Santa Fe.

With nothing short of massive effort, he reached the window, sweat still rolling down his fever flushed cheeks. Click. The latch gave and the glass swung away from the window, a cold breeze flowing in and sending a chill down his spine. His weak hands grabbed at the bars as he got as close as he could, trying to look up at the sky. Cloudy.

He sighed, his smile fading a bit – At least they were still under the same sky. Tears burned his eyes as he clung to the bars, his head leaning against them. Maybe at least Jack was thinking of him? He bit his lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. His throat burned and his head spun. Why? Why could he not catch a break? Why was this happening to him? What crime did he commit to deserve –

A rattle. Steps. Where were they – Below? His brows furrowed, his head straining to see the fire escape leading from the window. Who was climbing up so late and why? His heart raced, a bit of panic fluttering in his chest. A form came into view. Green eyes…

“Crutchie?” A familiar voice. The boy’s heart sang. “Ha.. How ‘bout that…” Jack smiled, dusting off his hands.

Jack. It was Jack. Crutchie stared into the other’s eyes for a moment, hoping it wasn’t just a fever dream. “Are ya… Really here?” He swayed a bit – But an arm came through the bars, and a hand set firmly on his shoulder to steady him. It was real. He was here.

“’Course I’m here…” Jack smiled, obviously trying his best to keep his composure. Crutchie couldn’t imagine how terrible he must look right now. How sunken his eyes must look… How damp with sweat his hair must be. “I ain’t goin’ no where.” He leaned in, getting as close as he could. His eyes staring directly into Crutchie’s own glazed ones.

“I didn’t think I’d –” He cut himself off, not wanted to say what he thought. Not wanting to say that he was sure he wasn’t going to last much longer. “I’m glad to see ya.” Crutchie breathed slowly, trying to focus, his hands still gripping the bars in the window.

Jack tilted his head a bit, his own eyes sparkled with the threat of tears. “Glad to see you, too…” He withdrew his arm and gently set his paint stained hands on Crutchie’s, his thumb rubbing circles into his warm skin. “Wanted to come and see how you was doin’.”

He could do it again. Fake it to make him feel better. Fake it to reassure them both but – His eyes swelled, and tears fell like rain. He was so scared. “Jack… I wanna go home. I know I gotta be strong and I –”

“Hey - hey…” Jack forced a smile, placing his free hand against Crutchie’s damp cheek. “You are strong and you will come home. I’m gonna get you outta here… I just –”

“I ain’t gonna… Jack I don’t think I can do it anymore.” Scared scared scared. He didn’t want to – “I don’t wanna… Go in here.” Tears. He was breaking. He could feel himself fading. . . . Getting sicker and sicker by what seemed like the moment.

“Crutchie. Listen to me.” His voice was forceful, but kind. So full of love and certainty. “You ain’t goin’ no where. Not until I come and get you and we leave together for Santa Fe, you hear me?” His eyes stayed firmly on Crutchie’s. His hands slightly trembled at the thought of…

“I’m sorry.” Was all Crutchie was able to say. His voice was tired and weak. His eyes red and cheeks puffy. He was so tired… He tilted forward to rest his forehead between two of the bars. The lids of his eyes were getting heavy, his legs getting weaker, fatigue catching up fast. His entire body going numb.

“You hold on. Promise me you’ll hold on.” Jack leaned down, pressing his own forehead against Crutchie’s, the best he could. “Crutchie, please.” His voice betrayed him, cracking.

He needed to sit down. Needed to sleep. Needed to rest. He needed to hold on to Jack. He needed to be brave. The bravery Jack helped him build up when he was a child. He needed it now.

He was scared.

“I’ll try.”


End file.
